


Breathe

by ThatDudeNoah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Panic Attacks, Referenced Non Con, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 00:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20751515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDudeNoah/pseuds/ThatDudeNoah
Summary: “You don’t have to be okay,” Cas says. “Just breathe for me. That’s all I need.”





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> So I recently went through a similar experience as described in the book, and when I panic, I wrote. It was a good way for me to realize that what happened was still bad and wrong, and was still sexual assault. I really hope no one has to go through anything similar, but if you do, please reach out and get support.

Dean’s knees were pulled up tight against his chest for what had to be at least the third time since the Incident. 

God, why did he have to be such a coward? It was nothing. Nothing happened. Why the hell was he freaking out so much? It was just a kiss. A kiss, a bit of touching, but - but it wasn’t as if he had been raped. 

But right now, Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe. All he could feel was Alastair’s tongue against his own, the man’s cold fingers running down his waist, down his scars, down the things that should’ve been kept private. Dean could feel Alastair’s hands tangling in his hair, pulling Dean closer.

Fuck, why was his chest so tight? Dean squeezed his eyes shut, ducked his head between his legs, and linked his hands, resting them on the back of his head. He needed to not be such a baby about the whole thing. He needed to just calm down, just get over it. Dean was drunk when the Incident happened, so how can he even be sure his memory is true? 

Except - Except he had only had one or two beers before that. He had been exhausted as all hell, but he hadn’t been blackout drunk, which means Alastair kissed him, and fuck -

Dean’s thoughts stop when he feels a hand touch his shoulder, and he jumps away. He expects to see the devilish face of the man who had touched him, but instead he sees Castiel. His boyfriend, his perfect boyfriend. A man that he doesn’t deserve. Dean sees Cas’ lips moving, but he can’t make out what he’s saying. The blood in his ears is roaring and there are rings of black around his eyes and he’s honestly not sure whether he’s dreaming or not, but he can distantly hear his boyfriend say his name. “Dean. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

Dean just stares at Castiel, unable to answer. His whole body feels numb, tingling, and he tries to speak but he can’t. He’s left with his mouth opening and closing, struggling to say something.

“Just breathe,” Cas says, crouching down beside Dean and resting his hand on his shoulder. “Breathe for me, Dean.”

Dean keeps staring at him, trying to let out the breath he had been holding for what felt like forever. It comes out shaky, but it comes out.

“Good,” he praises. “Just like that, Dean. Keep it up.”

It takes more time than it should, but Dean manages to get a steady rhythm in his breathing and is able to calm himself. And Cas stays with him the whole time, talking him through it 

Eventually the ringing and the darkness fade, and he’s breathing slowly as Cas whispers to him. After seeing that Dean is okay, Cas hesitantly asks, “Are you okay?” He wipes the tears from Dean’s cheeks and lets Dean rest his head on his chest. “No, scratch that question. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Dean knows he should’ve told his boyfriend immediately that he kissed someone else - or, rather, that he was kissed by someone else, because Dean was not the one doing any of the kissing - but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not then, at least. Now, though, he finds it all pouring out in a stream of tears and shaky breaths. 

He tells Cas about being cornered by Alastair in the bar bathroom. About having the man kiss him, and how Dean was too tired and felt too weak to push him away. He tried to explain that he didn’t want it, didn’t want to be kissing Alastair, didn’t want to be doing any of it. He explains how Alastair was insistent, one hand grabbing at Dean’s ass as the other one trailed under his shirt, tracing the marks across his body. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” Dean says once he finishes telling the story. “This isn’t even a big deal, and I just - fuck - I don’t know why I’m being so overdramatic and I don’t know why I lied to you and - “

“Hey,” Cas interrupts, “you’re not stupid. And you’re not being overdramatic. You were sexually assaulted, Dean. That's what this is. You can’t just recover from that easily.”

“But I should be able to,” he argues. “It wasn’t even anything big. I didn’t even see the guy’s dick.”

“That doesn’t matter, Dean. You’re not invincible, as much as you try to be. People get hurt. Their brains get screwed up. But brushing it aside won’t help anything.”

“I’m such a fuck up,” Dean continues, and he can feel the tightness in his chest again, and he can’t make it go away. “I fucked up your life the moment I walked in to it, and - and there’s no reason for you to even be dating me.”

Cas shakes his head. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Don’t talk like what, Cas? Don’t say the truth? Name one thing I’ve done correctly, one thing. You can’t. You fucking can’t because I screw up everything. I can't even go a month without a panic attack - hell, I can't even go a week without some goddamn alcohol. And I just - I just want everything to be okay.”

Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s body and plants a kiss behind his ear. He doesn’t even bother sugarcoating his answer. “Nothing is ever okay.”

“But I want to be, Cas. I - I wanna be able to kiss you and not think about someone else’s tongue being jammed down my throat. Hell, I can’t even masturbate without thinking of Alastair. I’m not okay, Cas. God, I’m not okay at all.”

“You don’t have to be okay,” Cas says. “Just breathe for me. That’s all I need.”

Dean is crying again, and he wishes he could just make the tears go away. When did he get so vulnerable, so weak? There was a time when he was a respectable man who could take care of himself, and here he is, coming down from his third panic attack over one simple thing. 

As if Cas could read Dean’s thoughts, he says, “You are perfect, Dean. Absolutely perfect. Anxiety and panic attacks and all. I love you. So much.”

“His hand was on my thigh,” Dean says, his voice weak and barely audible. “He saw my scars, and - and he was grabbing me and pulling and pulling and - and - ” Dean can feel the hands again, rubbing and pulling. The chapped lips against his lips, his neck, the fingernails running against his stomach.

“You’re spiraling, Dean,” Cas stops him. He pulls Dean’s head off his chest and forces him to look into his eyes. The blue is so comfortable, and Dean just wants to lean in and kiss him, but he doesn’t. “It’s over. You’re here, with me, and Alastair is gone. It’s just us.”

But he’s not gone, Dean thinks. Because he can still feel Alastair tongue, can still hear his voice rasping in his ear, so he’s not gone.

“Just breathe,” Cas repeats, staring at Dean as if he were some hurt puppy. 

And Dean keeps breathing. He keeps staring into Cas’ eyes and breathing. Slowly, he leans forward and kisses Castiel gently. Just lips; no tongue. He can’t do that yet, he knows he can’t, but this - this is good. The slow-moving of their lips against each other, soft and sweet, and Dean can only smell Cas. He smells like cinnamon and coffee and perfection, and Dean drinks in the smell.

Cas lets his tongue push gently on Dean’s lips, and Dean shakes his head. “Not yet,” he explains in a weak voice, and he can feel that panic creeping up in his gut again. “I’m sorry, I can’t - ”

“Then we won’t,” Cas tells him.

Dean nods. Maybe Cas is right; maybe he doesn’t have to be okay. As long as he keeps breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out my [tumblr](https://tchalla-catman.tumblr.com) if you ever wanna talk to me.


End file.
